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Up from the Dark: An epileptic girl's Struggle for her academics and voice

kindergartan

Most of the time I don't remember having a seizure. But very few I could remember clearly. This one today still sends a shiver down my spine because this one was the scariest on yet. It was fall 2002 and I started kindergarten. I was exited to get to kindergarten. Every little kid who starts grade school feels like a “Big kid”. I did. Though my first day of grade school was the worst. As I sat on the school bus for the first time. Just within a few feet from the house something unexpected was just about to happen. Boom! I started to have a seizure. I was sitting with two girls. Suddenly my baby sitter's daughter screamed “Rachel is having a seizure! She's having a seizure! Stop the bus!” The bus screeched to a halt.
My baby sitter, my parents and paramedics all came to my aid. When all of those who came to help me gave the sign that everything was okay, the bus drove of like nothing ever happened. Those students who were on the bus fall of 2002 might not remember my seizure incident on the bus. As for me I still do. When I came in to my new school we all were wearing name tags with our names. With help of our new teachers we were able to find our new kindergarten classrooms with great ease. I met my new teachers Mrs. Cadman and Mrs. Meusea. Mrs. Cabman was short with dirty blond hair and hazelnut green eyes. And Mrs, Meusea was tall with short dirty blond hair as well and brown eyes.
My kindergarten year was not as great as I have expected. It was a 360° turn from what I really wanted. Whenever I started to seize some of my classmates would take quick action. Others had a different point of view about me. They taught I was “weird”. Some of them looked at me as if I was an alien from another planet. I hated those names that kids called me. Names like “Shakey monkey”. Not only that other names piled up on my shoulders. “Shaking zombie” was also one. Many others that I don't bare to name.
These names I was called in Kindergarten made me feel as if a knife just stabbed my heart. It was really painful for me. I was so hurt that I still hear the voices in my head of the kids that made fun of me. So kindergarten dreaded in great anguish. I started to get bad grades. I also started to hate school. Though did something I loved to do. I played a musical instrument. My mom, is a music teacher at an elementary school. So ever since four years I played the cello. What my peers called “The big violin”. My mom taught me with great work to make me a great cello player.
So from kindergarten to third grade I brought my cello to school to play for my peers. They thought I played wonderfully. When I was in my old school in Jackson, most of my peers didn't even know what Bb is on the keyboard. Of coarse I brought my cello to school to entertain them. Show my peers what I really like to do. Playing in front of my class is fun. It made me feel like I was “at the center of attention” I felt like a star then. On stage. In front of the chalk board of my classroom. The best part of kindergarten had to be finding my best friend Rachael.
Rachael was beautiful. Long silky black hair, and pale skin. Her black hair reached to the center of her back. She was a great friend I ever had. We shared secretes together and often helped one another in conflicts we couldn't bare to do on our own. Rachael was mostly their when I languished in pain of bullying. Which most happened in kindergarten. The biggest target were the third fourth and fifth grade boys. All they did was laugh and point fingers at me.
When that would happen I would sit there with water in my eyes, not crying. I was just hurt. If only I had a super power than that would shoot them away from me I would be so gratefully happy. Everyday of kindergarten that I was bullied the more I started to dream. I would become oblivious to the world around me. When I would day dream night mares often it showed intricate woven spider webs, and dark places everywhere. I'd picture myself there. Hearing things like “Your worth nothing!” “Who do you think you are?” “Why are you so weird.” I was often terrified by these monstrous dreams. This mostly had to happen because of all that was going on at school.
When I would dream beautiful day dreams. They were often in ginormous meadows with blooming daises, petunias, magnolias, sunflowers, almost ever flower on the planet, everywhere in the meadow. Bees buzzing a melody while gathering pollen for their sweet honey. Humming birds, Robbins many birds chirping happily. butterflies, Rainbow arches creating bridges around the meadow, I saw myself barefoot rubbing my feet against the grass covered in morning dew. Running happily with my eyes closed, as the smell of flowers ran up inside my nose. The sun drizzled on my hair and warmed up my skin.
I loved nature and animals. Mostly the sounds. Any sound. Waves crashing against the black rocks of the ocean. Oh how I loved the sea. I would also imagine night fall, my bare legs two inches from the water. As the waves crashed my eyes closed smelling the sea salt air, and wind fanning my hair. The oceans waves creating a blanket on my feet. I always wished that only two seasons would repeat without fall and winter. It would be spring, summer, spring, summer. I love the fall for it's rainbow of leaves and winter for it's glittering snow. I mostly enjoy hearing nature awake during the spring and summer.
I did not only dream, I also wrote poems. I was not a big writer as I am today. But I loved to write small poems about my feelings. Below is a poem from kindergarten that I found, but then lost again. I read it so much that I remember it's words.

Spring
Sunny days
Perfect days
Rainy days
Icky days
Nice days
Green days

Today I'd laugh at that poem. And instead of writing an acrostic poem I'd write a free verse that goes like this.
Spring
April showers bring May flowers,
March winds bring birds in,
Honey bees make honey last,
Flowers bring happiness,
And then when spring finally comes,
Nature whole comes to sing along.

Just as much I loved to write poems then I still do now. Of coarse I write lots of other things then just poetry. Of coarse I savor the voices of many poets of the past. Like Emily Dickens, Robert Frost, and Edger Allan Poe. I often did what I did in Kindergarten when I was bullied. I often got frustrated wondering why I was bullied.
Poetry was one way to take my mind of what was going on at elementary school at the later days of kindergarten. The funniest day of kindergarten had to be during the winter. The day was dismal. Rainy and cloudy as clouds squeezed out rain like a sponge. We all had to write a poem about what we like to do. I did two things in one poem. I remember that line and I laugh hysterically. It was a line about the poem thought. “I like the poem of writing.” I mean in my perspective it doesn’t make any sense to me at all now that I am in eighth grade.
As kindergarten year came to the end and the last bell of the year rang. We all scrambled out of the building like a bunch of animals in a stampede. The entire school had to vibrate from all the students running out into the summer sun hoping for a great summer. Two and a half months of no homework, teachers, pencils and pens, and of coarse work. Staying up late. Going outside for hours and hours, and splashing at the pool.
I was hoping for a great new year next year. I was starting first grade at a new school with hopes high that there will be kids that will understand my epilepsy. Great things will happen. And wonderful memories will be with me for many years to come. Somethings happened great. Others didn't last so great.
First grade would go fast. There was one thing that made my face brighten in first grade. Right before my brain surgery. Something that I remember eight years later.